


separator

by lesthowells



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13858029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesthowells/pseuds/lesthowells
Summary: Dan turns his head slightly more into Phil's chest, the knit of his jumper was soft against Dan's cheek. He tries to let that ground him, to cling onto that sensory feeling alone. When he speaks, his voice does not sound like his own.





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It had turned bitterly cold again and the rain had been hammering against the glass of the windows steadily for over an hour. They agreed to turn the heating down after having it on high for most of the day in favour of crawling underneath Dan's fluffy blanket. The TV was on, the channel showing a Friends marathon, but they were only really half paying attention to it. The low hum and flicker light coming from the corner of the room was more comforting than entertaining. Despite the apparent calmness of the scene there was an unspoken air of apprehension, not quite invisible enough to go unnoticed. As the evening crawled by and the hour got later, Dan knew Phil could sense something wasn't quite right, the balance had been alerted. As if the growing unease inside him was somehow polluting the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. Dan felt guilty for hoping Phil would not mention it. He felt even more guilty for knowing what was ahead, what it might bring. Dan shifted a little closer, curling up slightly as if by making himself smaller it would make the approaching thoughts diminish. He didn't want them, didn't want to acknowledge them yet and ruin what had been an otherwise good day. 

"You've gone into your head again." Phil says after a few moments, lifting a hand to curl his fingers through Dan's hair in a steady rhythm. Dan only hummed in response, not knowing how else to reply. It was true, he had been lost to his thoughts for the past hour. It might have been earlier than that, if he was honest he isn't sure of himself. Phil's voice had pulled him half back into the present, he makes a quick check of his surroundings. The red digits on the TV box under the stand across the room shines back at him reading 11.35pm. He feels slightly cold despite the jumper he's wearing and the heaviness of the blanket over him. The realisation of this makes him feel sad, another reminder.  
"Are you gonna let me in there too?" The question is gentle and undemanding. Still, Dan feels immediately selfish for being so transparent. For allowing himself to get pulled far away, for not being able to realise that yet again it is so obvious. He never knows how to answer questions in moments like this, before during and after. His mind already beginning to turn hazy yet still desperately trying to keep in the moment of the here and now.

"It's nothing really." He replies eventually, knowing that this was the kind of answer that Phil hates. Dan hates them too. Hates that it's such an obvious lie but not having the energy to begin to try to think how to articulate the spiral of thoughts in his head, let alone actually say them out loud. And if he were going to be truly honest, he didn't know if even he wanted to.  
He hears Phil sigh quietly, his chest moves with the action. "It must be something. You're going really far away."  
Dan turns his head slightly more into Phil's chest, the knit of his jumper was soft against Dan's cheek. He tries to let that ground him, to cling onto that sensory feeling alone. When he speaks, his voice does not sound like his own. "It's silly, I'm being stupid."

The next few moments pass by silence before Phil speaks again. "Are you still upset about that bird story I told you?"

Dan has always marvelled at Phil's ability to interpret and figure out aspects of what is in his head so accurately, often understanding without Dan having voiced a word. Phil's understanding only goes so far though. He cannot read his thoughts exactly, sometimes Dan is selfish enough to wish he could, so he wouldn't have to explain for himself. If anyone deserves an explanation, it's Phil and because of that Dan always tries. They're had been a promise, several of them years ago that words would be used. Sometimes abundantly and sometimes scarcely. But always words and always as honest as it could be bared. Five years have passed, and it had gotten easier to adhere to the promise. There were still moments however, still times like these were it was difficult for Dan. There's more silence while his brain spirals further, the grip he has on the present moment is slipping away. He is grateful for Phil's everlasting patience, for the soft touch of his fingers in his hair that is the only thing left that is grounding him right now. It's a simple gesture but the comfort of it gives Dan reassurance enough to try and explain the best he can.

"It's not just the story, although it is sad." Dan begins, he knows he sounds nervous and sinks his teeth into his lip to try and distract himself. He tries again.  
"It's just, I don't know. I keep feeling like that is me, no matter what I do, I'm still that bird. I just feel that I don't really belong. I try but everything around me feels static, like concrete. I'm the bird, waiting and waiting for something that won't ever come. I'm waiting for myself to be the way I wish I could, still trying to figure everything out all after years and years. I'm waiting to understand why I get stuck in this place so often. I can have weeks where I think okay but then sooner or later I end back here again. Maybe I've just been pretending, believing something that isn't true. Like that bird, believing it was with others of its kind. I keep believing I'm okay only to be tricked again. I think that I've been wrong all this time. Why do I still feel so empty when I'm I shouldn't? I shouldn't and yet. I do. I'm just stuck."

"Dan. That's, that's not true at all!" Phil stumbles over his words, and Dan is horribly aware of how pained Phil sounds. He hates it, hates that he's the cause of it. Hates that he's done the very thing that he tries hard to avoid doing now. But the words keep coming and he cannot stop them or alter them. He is overcome with the feeling that if he says them out load that they will go away and the choking feeling rising in his chest will vanish. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows this won't happen, it is never that simple, if only it were.

"Sometimes I feel like I am concrete. The world and everyone else carries on moving around me and I'm stuck, solitary and no matter how I try I can't move forward. I can't do anything, I'm separate from myself, from my life, from the whole world. I want to live and breathe and exist like everyone else and I keep trying but I can't. It feels impossible, I feel like that concreate bird."

The silence in the room after Dan stops speaking is jarring and he immediately wants to take every word he has said back. He forgets that sometimes, saying things out loud does not feel good. He also feels guilty again. It's too much. "I told you it was stupid."

That seems to spark something because then Phil turns onto one side and takes Dan with him. They lie both facing one another, knees touching, Dan's head now resting on Phil's upper arm. His breathing feels strange, his whole body a heavy weight. Dan closes his eyes. He cannot make himself look up into Phil's face right now or else he is sure he will cry. The room feels dramatically colder than before. He wishes he could sleep, to flick the switch on his brain off so he can rest. The quiet of the room around him is ruined by the noise in his own head. Dan knows these kinds of moods and the thoughts that come with them, he knows they still cause worry for Phil. If he is honest, they worry him too. There's still that fear, deep rooted within him that they will not leave again. The thoughts are all consuming and terrifying; that this feeling, the sadness and nothingness; will last forever.

Phil leans his head closer to Dan's, the movement makes him look up finally. "You're not made of concreate Dan. I can prove it." He lifts Dan's hand into his, linking their fingers together. "You're real and I'm real. See." There's a pause before he smiles slightly. "Feel my heartbeat."  
Dan places his free hand against Phil's chest, Phil does the same to him. The rhythm vibrates through Dan's palm, Phil's heartbeat is almost in time with his own and Dan wonders if that is really as impossible as it sounds to him right now. It's comforting he cannot deny but the feeling sends him spiralling a little further.

"See?" Phil's voice is no more than a whisper now. "Concreate doesn't have a heartbeat."

Dan swallows, the sharp of his tooth digging further into his lip until he tastes iron. The sting is barely noticeable.  
"I know it's stupid, I can't explain it properly, I just. That story, it reminded me- I don't even know what." Dan sinks forward then, his head back against Phil's shoulder. Suddenly feels truly exhausted, his eyelids too heavy.

He knows this feeling all too well, the uneasiness that crawls its way under his skin and spreads all over his body. The slow plunge back into full darkness, the ache in his limbs and in his chest that sometimes hurts more than anything else. He knows it like he knows the back of his hand and yet it the onset still manages to surprise him every time, always different and yet familiar. Dan knew it earlier, before Phil had even mentioned the damn bird story. He cannot deny that hearing it had influenced the shift in his thoughts in some way. His brain had latched onto it, twisted and contorted it inwards and attached itself and now it wouldn't go. Dan had tried to ignore it all evening, deny its existence. He didn't want to acknowledge it, because that made it real. He knows he's slipping away even now, the security of the room around them breaking down and crumbling. Dan knows it's obvious because when Phil replies it is yet again with discerning clarity. 

"I miss you when you go away." Phil whispers and Dan cannot possibly miss the sadness in his voice. It cuts through him, the guilt inside magnifies. He knows what Phil means without having to ask or think about it. The unspoken subconscious understanding that they have between them is enough. He knows because it's happening again, he can feel it too.

Dan swallows, there's lump in his throat and it catches when he tries to speak. "I miss you too."

Their hands are still linked, fingers curling and uncurling and brushing against each other's. He is grateful for the gentleness of the contact, the comfort of it is the one thing Dan feels is keeping him tied to the present. The walls of the room are no longer familiar and when he looks at the time again he is sure that an hour must have passed. It's only five minutes.  
"I hate it." Dan knows he doesn't have to elaborate. He knows Phil knows, and he knows Phil knows he knows. He feels Phil tighten his grip on his hand, the pressure of his fingers harder against his scalp. Dan doesn't' mind, he welcomes it.

"I wish I could come with you." Phil replies, even quieter than before. Perhaps it is because this is something that they rarely talk out load about. It is never this explicit, Dan knows this is probably a good thing and that when he can look back he will be glad that they were able to talk about it in their own special way. But right now, he cannot think with that kind of clarity. Right now, everything feels far away and impossible. Himself more than anything.  
'You shouldn't. You can't." Dan hates the emotion in his voice, he hates how it is so instantly obvious that he is sad and there is nothing that can be done.  
Phil's hand tightens more around Dan's, it's almost painful and again, he does not mind. The sigh that Phil utters and the words that follow are more painful.  
"I know. But I still wish I could. I'll be right here though, I can't follow but I am here even when you can't see me. I'm not going anywhere."

Dan is overwhelming grateful for the simplicity of that reassurance, it's invaluable. Phil knows this, it's not for the first time and it won't be the last. The sincerity of Phil's words fills Dan's heart until it threatens to burst. It's always the same, the love and gratitude he feels is magnified a thousand times in moments like this. There is also a dark and messy part of his brain that sometimes tells him he doesn't deserve this man beside him. He does not deserve his unwavering kindness and patience. It's not always present but it lingers in the corner of his mind and threatens to take over, Dan fights to keep it away. There was a time when he would say all of this out loud, a habit that was hard to break out of. Dan won't say it now because he knows it isn't true, despite how it may feel. His self destructive tendencies have always been reoccurring, a plague criticism and self doubt flooding his brain. He cannot fight it off in every aspect but he tries the hardest when it comes to Phil and that will never change. 

Dan doesn't trust himself to say anything right now, so he leans up and catches Phil's mouth with his own. The kiss is short and sweet, to say the things he is unable to say with words. To say _thank you_ , to say _I love you_ and _I'm sorry_. What happens tomorrow Dan cannot be sure. He hopes for the better outcome, the one where he wakes up and he feels like the good version of himself. Dan hopes that tomorrow morning he will open his eyes and be in his bedroom, familiar and safe. The sunlight sneaking through the gap in the curtain will be warm and welcoming. He hopes he will feel attached to his body, to his life to the world. This hope is all he has and until then he won't think on it. He clings to what little realness he has in this moment, holds onto it and breathes in deeply.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


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